


“..and they were quarantined.” (“Oh my god, they were quarantined.”)

by Miss_Rust



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bi!Jon, Blow Jobs, Clown-to-Clown Communication, Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, I have been flirting with you for months, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pan!Tormund, Praise Kink, Quarantine, Rhaegar Targaryen's a-plus parenting, and now you notice?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Rust/pseuds/Miss_Rust
Summary: Jon and Tormund are in lockdown together, and revelations are, well,revealed.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow, mentioned, past Jon/Satin, past Jon/Ygritte
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for @Louhetar for beta'ing me!
> 
> The explicit stuff will come in chapter three, if you want to avoid it! :D

Quarantine.

It was only his luck, to be quarantined with his long time crush. 

Jon Snow; broad-shouldered, with slick, dark curls, and a face that could be on magazine covers. As honourable as they come, and of course, a law student. 

A soft-spoken, deep voice, he’s calm, collected and calculating. A workaholic through and through, perfectionist and strong-willed, passionate about justice. 

But also self-deprecating, insecure, and if Tormund wasn’t wrong, a little bit touch starved.

Oh well. But who would blame him? He had a shitty childhood. Living with his uncle, Eddard Stark, because his birth parents were like a sparkling bushfire, explosive and wide-spreading, and yet drowning each other at the same time. And suffocating Jon at the same time.

No place for a young Jon Snow. 

His mother had died, his birth father blamed him and for the lack of a better word, banished him, relinquishing all efforts to raise his small son, dropping him and his papers at his late wife’s brother’s doorstep. 

Ned Stark stepped in, a loving uncle, but it was far too late. 

The damage was done. 

The Starks helped a lot, but Jon, until now, put up shields and walls around him. 

Not that he blamed his flatmate. He would put up defences too. 

Jon moved out at 16, self-emancipated by law, and found his way into Tormund’s flatshare. 

Back then, they had been sharing a flat with three other boys, Edd, Sam and Grenn, who were all university students. Like Tormund. Four 18-year-old freshers, and a 16-year-old determined student. 

He had thought it would be a recipe for disaster, back then.

But it wasn’t. The four of them had quickly found out that Jon, even though his situation was nothing but normal, just wanted that. Normalcy. 

So they went on and did just that. 

And so they had gained a young, hormonal flatmate, but that was about all the problems they went through. 

Jon was nothing if not efficient, diligent in keeping clean, helping to cook, and most important for all of them, paying his rent. 

How, Tormund never really knew, not until much later, when he had found out that Jon’s birth father was sending him money, quite regularly. 

At first, he had thought that he did it to try to reconvene with Jon, but no. He and Jon had been in the city centre when they had, involuntarily, met Rhaegar Targaryen. 

It was a disaster. How a father could be this awful to his son, he didn’t know. 

“Get out of my eyes, I thought I sent you enough money to keep you away from me.” was what the man had thrown against Jon, then 17. 

Jon was so brave. But also frozen to the spot, and Tormund just pulled, pulled him away from that man, and into a side street, where Jon spectacularly lost control of his carefully put together barriers and proceeded to have a panic attack, right then and there. 

And Tormund couldn’t do anything but hold him. He was just 19, as well, a teenager.

From then on, they had gotten a lot closer, and Jon had opened up about everything, and they became friends. All five of them. 

Jon grew taller and calmer and stronger. 

And before they knew it, they were best friends. 

Jon finished school with high marks and went to law school. 

And then he started bringing girls home. Which of course, was no problem, it was just weird. 

This was Jon, their baby friend, having relationships. Tormund knew that he shouldn’t baby Jon, but it was so weird for him. He had never seen him in this light. 

Kyra was Jon’s first girlfriend, they lasted about a month. Then there was Beth, a sweet girl, and Tormund had thought it would last longer, but they just turned to be friends instead. Jeyne went much the same way. 

Ygritte though- Ygritte lasted longer. A long while. And it went down in a fire. Tormund picked up the pieces, sitting with Jon, gaming, or just listening. 

And it took a while for Jon to pick himself up again. 

At 21, a year after Ygritte, he was eating dinner, and Jon came out of his room, dressed to the nines. 

“I’m going on a date.” He had said, and Tormund had grinned at Jon, glad that he was back at it. He had wondered which girl he’d bring home. 

But he didn’t bring anyone home that night, but he had a smile on his face that was just so happy, so Tormund was too. Usually, Jon brought his girls back on the first or second date, the lucky bastard. 

Maybe this one would be less of a trainwreck. 

More dates passed, and then one day they had planned to go on a picnic, Jon and his date, but it was raining. It was just Tormund that was at home that night, so Jon had asked if he could bring home his date for dinner, and Tormund had just grinned and said yes. 

And the doorbell rang. And in walked a young man, instead of a young woman he had expected. 

Satin. Warm, brown skin, twinkling dark eyes, and even more soft-spoken than Jon. 

At first, Tormund had thought that he had misunderstood until Jon leant down to greet Satin with a kiss. 

Jon introduced them, and Tormund swallowed down his shock to be replaced by a smile when he saw the worry in Jon’s eyes. 

Later, when they were alone, Tormund had knocked on Jon’s door and engulfed him in a bear hug. 

“I’m a shitty best friend if you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

“You’re not, I’m the one that-

“Not a word, Jon” 

“Okay.” 

And that had been that. 

Satin had lasted a long, long while, the longest out of them all. 

But even that broke down, and Tormund was there, again, to pick up the pieces. 

He didn’t know the reason until Jon had told him, one night after the three others had gone to sleep.

“I needed someone to take care of me, but all I ever did was take care of him.” 

Tormund had not answered and just pulled Jon into a hug. 

And the tiniest whisper of a feeling had tugged at his heart, a small surge of something that was everything but platonic. 

That was like, two years ago. 

Jon grew into himself more over the past two years. Grew to be even more of a workaholic, more solemn, and the boyish charm now replaced with utter matureness. 

It was embarrassing how attractive that was to him. And even more embarrassing that this was no mere lust, not pure attraction, it was love, and it went deep. And when he noticed, he was so deep in that he couldn’t really stop it.

They knew each other for seven years now, were best friends for five of them, and Tormund loved him for two. 

And for one year, they just lived together, only the two of them, as the flat with five people grew too much.

It was heaven and hell at once. 

Heaven, because he had his best friend and crush close, always. Hell, because every tiny thing Jon did seemed to set Tormund on fire. 

And now, he couldn’t even leave the flat to clear his head, because they were in quarantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

It had started in December, slow reports trickling in, first reports of cities in lockdown, announcements of new cases in new countries. In February, suspected cases in their own country, that turned out to be negative.

The first of March, the first case confirmed. At their university no less. Their university was the first to go into lockdown, and they were glad that it was so equipped to teach online that they barely missed a few weeks.

Tormund had nearly daily get-togethers with his fellow master students on Zoom, and Jon attended his online lectures as diligently as he could.

The dude even set up a schedule that went on for the past month, exactly like this. Said schedule was to get up at 9, get coffee, do the lectures until like 2pm.

At 2pm, Tormund usually got up, so they’d eat together, whatever he would whip up.

Then Tormund settled into his own studies, only emerging later to find Jon on their couch, reading or gaming or texting. And that’s where the crux of the matter lies.

He’s shirtless.

Most of the time.

And Tormund has to catch himself from gaping all the time because that’s his best friend, whom he is in love with. Shirtless, on the couch. Like the absolute snack that he is. And he cannot do anything about it.

It’s been like this the entire last month. Well, not for the whole month. More like halfway through.

At some point, Jon had just decided to do that.

“You okay?” Jon’s deep voice rips him out of his thoughts.

Tormund starts, and he cannot suppress it. Did he really just stare at Jon for like a minute after coming out of his room? All the while musing about how his life has become like this, the quarantine business, everything?

He huffs, hoping that it's enough and moves through the living room into the kitchen.

Immediately he hears Jon groan.

“Tooooormundd no”

“Tormund yes” He calls back.

He opens the fridge, rummaging in it for a bit, contemplating on what to eat. An easy pressure gives him the warning as his best friend closes in on him, wrapping his arms around Tormund's side, latching on like an octopus.

Jon glares up at him.

Tormund glares back. And tries not to grin because Jon is so much smaller than him, and when he’s angry? He kinda looks cute.

“Tormund.”

“Jon.”

“You should talk about your feelings, we’re in quarantine, and I refuse to have us have emotional issues from being cooped up”

Tormund snorts. If he were to talk about his feelings- Nah. Not happening. Neither of them has anywhere to flee if he ends up confessing.

“I refuse, your honour.” He opens the fridge again.

“I swear to god-” Jon mutters under his breath, and Tormund breaks into laughter.

“Jon, I’m fine. I’m just dazed from the lecture, that’s all.”

He hands Jon a can of blue Fanta, his favourite, and closes the fridge.

Jon does his puppy eyes, and Tormund dies a bit inside.

“What?” he asks softly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Jon looks up to him, looking a little anxious.

“Yeah.”

“Okay”

“Now, enough of that, your honour, I gotta beat you in Mario Kart.”

And the puppy eyes are gone, replaced by righteous anger.

“You will not!”

“I will; just watch me.”

And then they’re racing each other to the living room.

*

By the time Jon’s beaten him like 10 times, he gives up.

“Joooon, I’m done, have mercy. Cease and desist, lawyer boy. You’ve won your case.”

Jon just grins but does put down his joystick.

“Movie?”

“Yeah.”

This time around they choose, of course, ‘The Lord of the Rings’, because they’re both nerds and the film is excellent.

And Jon falls asleep on him halfway through.

Because yes, it is late, and yes, Jon has an entire sleep schedule that is in fact not fucked up like his, so no wonder he does.

The boy goes to sleep at fucking 10 pm.

And Tormund doesn’t have the heart to move him. But also, the movie is so good he just wants to watch it to the end.

*

He wakes up when Jon falls off the couch, a mess of sprawling limbs.

“Huh” He lets out, unintelligently and full of sleep still. Jon’s still scrambling on the floor.

Tormund holds a hand out for helping purposes, but Jon ignores it and comes up by himself.

“Jon?”

His best friend looks delectable like this, mussed-up bed head and sleepy-eyed and confused.

“Why are we on the couch? Why didn’t you wake me to go to bed?”

“Awww Jon, come on. You were asleep on me, and I didn’t wanna wake you because you looked so cute! And also I wanted to finish watching.” He grins down at Jon.

Jon facepalms.

“And then you fell asleep too. I woke up to you spooning me! I got startled.”

“Oh, that bothers you?”

“No! I just- we could have gone to bed.” Jon sounds petulant, but he’s also blushing furiously. Good god, now Tormund has fucked it up. Jon’s embarrassed.

Tormund groans.

“Well, I think I’m gonna make breakfast now. What time is it even?” He checks his phone, and of course, it’s 8 am.

He heaves himself up from the sofa, stretching out, shirt riding up over his stomach a bit. He’s lost some of his muscles, since he can’t go to the gym but only works out at home. Pulling it down self consciously, he looks at Jon, catching him glancing upwards to his face as if-

Was Jon checking him out? No, no. That can’t be.

He sends him a smile, trying to ease the weird tension in the room.

“Do you want anything?”

“If you’re offering?”

“Yeah.”

And then they’re off, the weird tension dissipating as they go on about their day, but somehow now he is even more focused on watching Jon.

And to think of it, he did change quite a lot, during the quarantine. His behaviour at least. How he hasn’t noticed this yet is beyond him.

It’s not bad, per se, it’s just weird.

He smiles more at him, and it’s not fake? There is more touching when they set the table. Casually, not forced, but definitely lingering. And Jon tries to joke. He’s terrible, but he definitely tries to do that more. But he smiles at Tormund when he delivers some lines, and Tormund laughs despite himself.

It’s suspicious.

revealed

The last time Jon acted like that was with Satin-

Jon’s in love? With whom? There’s nobody here but-

Him.

No.

That can’t be.

Not Tormund-

But Jon is-

He rises up from his chair in shock, and at the same time realises he has been spacing out in a conversation with his group project, a Zoom meeting. Quickly he sits back down, noting the confused looks on some of the people’s faces.

“Sorry, my back hurts a bit.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Karsi says, their team leader, “I vote we finish up anyways, we’re kinda done here for now.”

Assent everywhere, and they hang up.

Tormund is left with his newfound realisation.

Google.

Google will help.

‘how to show your roommate you have a crush on them’

And there it is, the first article he finds. Word for word, exactly what Jon has been doing the past days, weeks, months?

For fucks sake. He’s known this man since Jon was 16, this is the first time he is running around half-naked in their flat on a constant basis. Usually, the man is so careful to always be dressed, to not be vulnerable.

And yeah, point three of the list “If you have a good body, show off your body.”

Leave it to Jon Snow to take that literally and run around shirtless.

But to be quite honest, anything Jon wears is flattering. Taking of the shirt would have sort of been the only way-

Wait a minute.

This is it.

Jon’s-

Jon has, without a doubt, and with evidence, a crush on him. On him.

He needs to test this.

So he skims through the article, again, noting the quickest most obvious things to do: show off your body, use pet names, body language.

Not even five minutes later, he’s in the kitchen, half-naked, hair brushed and in his best-fitting jeans. He’s making coffee when he hears Jon come in, staying in the door. Hopefully he’s admiring his back muscles?

“Hey, babe” he lets out, casually, letting his voice dip a bit. “Want some?”

He turns, trying not to look too calculating but Tormund doesn’t even have to pretend.

Jon is staring at his chest, his chest hair most likely, eyes tracing down his happy trail. Blushing furiously, and swallowing.

Thesis confirmed.

“What?” Jon whips up his eyes, and Tormund grins easily, softly at his best friend.

“I said, want some?”

He’s not cruel. He’s not. But this is so much fun, watching Jon’s eyes turn confused and blushing even more.

“I meant the coffee,” Tormund grins.

“OH! Oh. Yeah, yeah give me some.”

Tormund grins, raising an eyebrow in what he hopes is a flirting way. He watches Jon walk over to the counter, filling up his favourite mug.

Jon’s distracted. Good. Part two of the battle plan.

“Soo….Jon.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me if I am wrong, I might be a dumbass, but I think if I am not getting the wrong vibes, you might have been theoretically, possibly, flirting with me?”

Better get it out all at once.

He watches Jon freeze, staring into his coffee, watches the content smile slip into a nervous face, and yup, if that doesn’t prove anything, nothing will.

He smiles, encouragingly when Jon looks up at him. It seems like that’s the right thing to do because his best friend seems to settle, schooling his face into a look of indifference.

Indifference, yes, but there is a small smirk hiding, the dimples on Jon’s cheeks dipping slightly.

“If I might theoretically, possibly, have flirted with you, what would you do.” Jon makes it sounds like a statement, and not the actual question, completely void of emotion yet somehow, he just confirmed that he actually-

Oh god. This is actually happening.

Tormund has had a crush on his best friend, for a year, and it is reciprocated, and he was too stupid to notice.

“I might go stand in the kitchen shirtless and greet you with a pet name and hope that I was correct in my assumption because I kinda have been harbouring a crush on you for a year now, the raging pansexual that I am.” He lets it all out.

And it’s worth it. A smile is starting to break out, twinkling in deep brown eyes.

“If you are, hypothetically, correct in your assumption, which you are, what are you gonna do now?” Jon’s voice is raspy, goddamnit, that does things to him.

It’s fucking go time.

He moves in, caging Jon between his arms and the counter, but keeps his distance, still.

“I could hypothetically kiss you now, but only if we stop speaking in hypotheticals?” He voices it as a question, giving Jon an out if he wants.

“Yeah, please.”

But Tormund can’t move. He can just stare at his best friend in awe. They could have been doing this for ages. His entire life is about to change-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the explicit one! 
> 
> I hope you liked this one :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut!

“Fuck it.” Jon whispers and moves in.

And then they’re licking into each other’s mouths, softly, heat starting to grow. Jon’s lips feel soft, so soft, and plump under his own. Jon has the best lips, so pouty and kissable and Tormund is kissing him. Right now.

He’s not wearing a shirt, Tormund suddenly realises when Jon’s hands touch his bare chest, stroking at his chest hair. Goddamnit that feels so good.

Gasping, they break apart.

“Does that mean we’re boyfriends now?” Jon asks breathlessly.

“Yeah, god yes, please.” That’s all he can utter before they start kissing again, and this time, Jon even touches his nipples, rubbing a thumb over it curiously.

“I realise not wearing a shirt might make us take this a lot faster than anticipated,” Tormund lets out, now cupping Jon’s cheeks.

“Do you have a problem with that? Because I don’t,” comes the quickfire reply, and god.

This man is gonna be the death of him.

They barely make it to Jon’s bedroom, stumbling over each other, trying not to lose contact and keep kissing at the same time as moving forward.

Jon loses his shirt somewhere on the way, and Tormund pins him to the door to peel off his sweatpants, kneeling between his legs. Jon’s cock is straining against his underwear already. He strokes the side of Jon’s tummy, looking up at his face.

“Fuck, Tormund.” His best friend- boyfriend -groans above him, and he smirks, slowly starting to leave a trail of kisses up Jon’s chest, lingering on his neck for a bit before towering above him.

“I can do that if you want.” He mouths into Jon’s hair, somewhere above his ear.

“I’m not prepped for that today-” Jon breathes, moving his head so he can look up at Tormund.

Tormund grins in response.

“There are a thousand other things I can do, babe.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm, I think I want you to tell me what you want, Jon.”

“Fuck” Jon curses, shutting his eyes and twitching towards him. Tormund is rock hard by now, and so is Jon, from where he feels him pressing against his leg. From what he can gather, Jon’s not small at all, and he can’t wait to find out. Consent first though. He needs to know what Jon wants.

“I think we already established that’s not happening today, love.” Tormund grins, taking joy in teasing his best friend by letting his voice dip into what he deems his “sex voice”.

It works.

Jon shudders against him.

“Please just touch me, Tormund, I need your hand-”

Tormund is on it before Jon can finish his sentence. He reaches into Jon’s boxers, wasting no time to stroke a gentle finger down his length.

And gods, Jon’s not lacking, in no sense. His cock feels beautiful under his fingers, on the longer side, and girthy, and even a few veins popping up. He reaches up quickly to lick his palm before he goes back to wrap it around Jon, relishing in the heavy feeling in his hand.

“Shit, you feel so good, Jon” He groans, and Jon shudders at that, “So responsive for me.”

Jon bucks into his hand, and the slide goes easy, as he starts to stroke earnestly. Tormund presses Jon against the bedroom door, noting how his best friend’s legs seem to buckle a bit.

“Weak in the knees, baby?” He croons into the black curls, and Jon nods feebly, whining a bit.

“Hold onto me.” Tormund drops a kiss on his ear, “I’m not gonna let you fall.”

And oh- the way Jon immediately reacts and wraps his arms around his neck, holding on, almost desperately as Tormund strokes him-

“You’re perfect.” The words just escape him, and Jon shivers and whines.

“I needed someone to take care of me-” Jon’s words from years ago fall into his head. It falls into place so quickly he is nearly dizzy.

“Jon, baby, I’m gonna take care of you so good, you’re doing so well for me,” he gasps at the realisation.

The smaller man shudders in his arms, and yeah, that’s it. Praise kink, that one. A mighty one at that. Submissive, even, if the way Jon whines into his grasp and follows every single one of his requests is to be believed.

But there’s no sense in doing that now, not without any clear-minded talk.

He uses his other hand to finally wrench down the boxers in one rough yank. Jon gasps in shock at the change in pace.

“Jon, Jon- can I please blow you?” He needs this so bad, finally seeing Jon for the first time, actually seeing his cock. It’s flushed dark, lightly curved and hard against his abs. It’s the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen, to be quite honest. He needs to get his mouth on Jon.

“Yes, yes, god please Tormund, yes” Jon breathes into his mouth, and they’re kissing again.

“Fucking perfect, Jon.”

He nudges Jon’s legs apart with a gentle kick, and his boyfriend full on moans. His boyfriend. Because he can say that now.

Tormund kneels down, leaving open-mouthed kisses onto Jon’s neck, his collarbone, the middle of his chest and his nipples, carefully, softly, until they’re hard under his lips. Only then he moves to sit between Jon’s legs, looking up at him.

Taking Jon’s hands, he moves them to his shoulders and then wraps his arms around Jon’s thighs.

“Brace on me, I won’t let you fall.” He waits for Jon’s nod, which he does, head falling back with a thunk against the door.

He grins at the helpless, lost in pleasure look on his best friend’s face. That’s what he wants, forever.

And then he focuses back on the task at hand, mainly, the beautiful cock in front of his face.

He starts with small licks around the head, the tip of his tongue swirling teasingly around the slit but not dipping in, and then a long lick down to the base, where he takes a minute to bury his nose into the black curls that are even down here.

Jon is almost folded into himself above him, small gasps and moans escaping at his every move.

He pushes his head down further, playing with Jon’s balls a bit before moving back up to lick at his head, pushing his tongue against the slit, dipping in slightly.

Then he casts his eyes up, looking for reactions as he wraps his lips around, sucking slightly and then moving in. It’s good he doesn’t really have a gag reflex, because Jon is long. He uses his hand to cover the bits he can’t take and gets to work.

Jon is heavy in his mouth, occasionally twitching, and he tries to imprint every tiny thing onto his mind. Every small moan, every hitch of his hips, the shaking hands on his shoulders, the trembling legs framing him.

It’s over far too quickly, and Jon tries to warn him, stuttered, broken-voiced, but Tormund ignores him and swallows him down, tears gathering at the side of his eyes.

The burn is worth it, though, Jon’s worth it.

He pulls off quickly when he notices Jon starting to sway, gathering him up into his arms for the last two meters to the bed to pull him into a cuddle.

Jon comes down his high slowly, basking in his attention and Tormund’s careful, warm strokes against his skin.

“Y’ Good?” Tormund rasps, voice hoarse and jaw hurting, but smiling at the younger man in his arms.

“Hmmm” Jon hums and tries to get even closer.

“Good.”

He’s still hard and aching in his jeans, and why is he still wearing jeans? Jon seemed to have the same thought and jerks in his arms.

“You’re still-” He gets the wide-eyed puppy eyes thrown at him.

“Yeah. You wanna watch me?”

“No- I, can I”

“Words, Jon.”

“I wanna, can I use my mouth?”

Fuck, this man is gonna be the death of him. He nods, no words left, and swiftly, Tormund doesn’t even know how Jon can move now, his best friend is between his legs, jeans peeled down and discarded down the side of his bed. He looks small, sitting between his legs like that, and staring down at his cock. He knows he’s big, and he knows it turned off some people in the past, so he’s a bit nervous at Jon’s stillness.

“You’re so big.” Jon’s eyes are huge.

“I’m sorry, you don’t- you don’t have to.” Tormund brings out and can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“No, no, it’s good.” Jon says, “I like it.”

There is no hint of a lie.  
Jon gets in slowly, starting much as he did, long licks up the side of his cock, a small kitten licks on his head before he opens his mouth and takes him in.

Jon’s mouth is heaven. He’s already so close, and he can’t stop from blabbering, calling out praises and endearments and his name as Jon gets to work.

His hands have nothing to do so he moves them down, towards Jon’s hair before remembering himself.

“Jon, your hair, can I?”

Brown eyes look up at him through dark eyelashes, and he has to try so hard to keep eye-contact, not even bothering to mask the pants leaving his mouth.

Jon winks.

Fuck.

Tormund moves his hand down, finally, into the dark black curls and just holds, holds his head and his hair, never quite pulling, he’s not really into that himself, and tries so hard to think unsexy thoughts to keep it going, keep Jon where he belongs, with him, loving him.

He fails, utterly, and barely manages to warn ahead of time.

The feeling of Jon’s throat contracting around him is deafening, blood rushing through his ears drowning out everything else.

Jon moves away for a few seconds but is back with his shirt to wipe them both down, and Tormund makes grabby hands at him.

“Fucking hell yes.” He says to the ceiling, then looks at Jon who is tucking himself back to him, “I’ll never let you leave this bed.”

Jon laughs, and god, he will never get used to this, hearing his best friend’s voice cracking and a little bit wrecked because he just blew Tormund.

And he can kiss him now.

So he does. It’s only early afternoon anyway, and neither of them has any other things to do. All Tormund had to do today was this one Zoom call, and that’s it. All they can and should do now is relax and cuddle, and maybe talk out some more of those finer details.

But for now, Tormund is content just holding him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me strength, tell me what you think? ♥


End file.
